


The Price for Winning

by forever_and_always



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, Guilt, I'm Sorry, M/M, No Dialogue, Off-screen Character Death, Regret, Season/Series 03, Wakes & Funerals, it doesn't really have a happy ending, there is just a lot of death okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:32:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_and_always/pseuds/forever_and_always
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Defeating the alphas doesn't come without a price, even if no one wants to pay it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price for Winning

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm having feelings about season 3 and if you've seen the newest trailers you know what I mean. As I said in the tags there is a lot of death, but some is off-screen. It was could be triggering for some, so if you're worried just read with caution; you can always skip the first part. 
> 
> This is the first Teen Wolf fic I've posted, but not the first one I've written. I also tried a writing style that's a bit different for me so sorry if there's errors.

He doesn’t feel anything at first. There is too much adrenaline still pumping through his veins. But he doesn’t move. His feet firmly stuck to the floor. The sounds of his ripping flesh bleeds into the other sounds of fighting so it misses his ears. No one turns to him. Everyone keeps up the struggle in their battles, so he tries a tentative step. Maybe the wolfsbane pierced the alpha’s heart before she could hurt him. As he moves his foot, his legs give out and he falls to the floor. Someone catches him before his head can strike the concrete of the warehouse. He hears the scream and smells the sickly sweet scent of blood rushing down his neck. At that moment the adrenaline leaves him and shock takes over. Pain radiates throughout every inch of his body. It grows stronger as the seconds tick by.

The shrieking turns into the yelling of someone’s name, but everything is too cloudy to process. Not the pressure of small hands compressing the wound on his throat. Not the sudden surge of power and energy that ripples through his pack. The strength to defeat the last remaining alphas. Not his faithful betas hovering above him trying not to stand in the pool of blood. He does vaguely notice, though, when he gets pulled into someone’s lap by strong arms stained with crimson. The light sensation of hands brushing against his arms, his cheek, trying to take his pain away hazily reaches his brain. But he doesn't want to pain to leave. It numbs away the sadness. He has already lost so much; his friends- now as close as family- has lost so much too. The physical pain fading allows the other kinds of pain to seep back in. 

He attempts to tell everyone how sorry he is. He never wanted anyone to be hurt too. 

No sound comes past his lips. He only coughs up blood. 

Hot tears roll down his cheeks but he knows they aren’t his own. The over-heated body grips him even tighter as it slowly rocks back and forth, as if the closeness would force life back into his dying body. And he knows is, that he is going to die. He’s lost too much blood already and still losing more. His eyes are heavy now, and it would be so much easier for him to peacefully fall asleep than to keep fighting this waking nightmare. The body against his is warm and comforting; the rocking reminds him of when his mother soothed away his fears. A new set of hands grasped his shoulders and shakes, trying to get him to stay awake. The yelling and screams start again, but now they are only uncontrollable sobs. The person holding him clasps the side of his face and gently pulls his head into their chest. He relaxes into the rhythm of their heart beat and can faintly hear the constant chant of “no, no, please, stay with me, no, please, don’t die” whispered softly in his ear. He always hated to break promises but this, he knows, is one he can’t keep. 

If this is the price for winning someone has to pay, he’s willing to pay the remaining balance so no one self has to pay the debt.

He takes his last shaky breath and it all finally ends.  
\---

Stiles dies wrapped in Derek’s arms.

\---

The pack stands around them helpless and lost until their alpha orders them to hide the bodies

Derek doesn’t care who sees him openly crying. But he should. He hasn’t cried like this since the fire, he didn’t even cry this hard for Laura. He should feel guilty about it except he only feels emptiness. He never realized Stiles had made him whole.

\---

Derek refuses to let go of Stiles’ body, even when the police and paramedics arrive.

Isaac and Boyd manage to pry him away, and he breaks down even more.

\---

He ran. He didn’t stop running.

The moment he stepped foot outside the bloodied warehouse he ran and didn’t look back.

Once he hit the trees, Derek had fully transformed, needing to let his wolf to be free, so he ran.

He only stopped because the pain and exhaustion had caught up.

\---

Derek never allows himself to morn. He has to be strong. For the pack, who needs their Alpha in their time of distress, and for his little sister, Cora, whose guilt and trauma she suffered through is slowly settling as a weight on her shoulders. For himself, he had seen so much death in his life and was afraid anymore would break him permanently, and lastly for Stiles. He would smack Derek and tell him he's moping around too much, or he would hold Derek and whisper to him that everything will be just fine, for he had seen death too.

\---

It seemed like when the weather mourned Stiles' death. Dark storm clouds roll in the sky overhead, threatening to pour out rain at any second. Seas of black lace and silk flutter in the breeze as people gather behind the police barricades in support of the town’s beloved Sheriff. As a respect of privacy, only the pack, his father, and a minister are allowed to go near the shiny, black casket. But people are missing from the funeral. Danny is still in the hospital from when he was attacked. Erica and Mrs. McCall had been buried a few days before.

The whole town grieved for all the sudden losses, the police pinned it on a serial murderer, and they stayed unaware of the real killers. Sometimes it was better that way. 

Derek arrived at the cemetery early to place flowers at the fallen pack’s graves. Pink lilies for his Laura, yellow daffodils for Erica, and purple tulips for Scott’s mother. Derek didn’t know Melissa for very long, but she proved herself worthy of being part of his pack. 

The Sheriff called while he walked back to his car. He wanted to talk to Derek. 

They never ended up talking. It wasn’t long after he walked into the Stilinski house that Derek broke down. He could still smell Stiles everywhere he turned. The Sheriff joined along with him, but they never spoke a word. Both men knew how much Stiles still meant to the other.

Stiles’ father drove him to the cemetery, and Derek pretended not to hear the whispers when he was allowed to enter the barricade. The rest of the pack filed in shortly after. Allison was already crying before she even exited the car, and Scott was barely able to keep his wolf locked away from the pressures of sadness. Lydia was gripping Isaac’s hand tightly and looked only slightly stronger than Allison when it came to crying over Stiles. Isaac kept his head low in respect and to keep himself together, but Boyd, stoic as ever, somehow managed to keep his head high.

When the small group was granted permission to pay their respects, Derek couldn't help the tear that fell down his face. Stiles looked like he was simply sleeping and would wake at any moment. 

So at peace and oblivious to the world around him. All the stress and pain melted from his face.

But his skin was too pale and his body too cold.

Members of the pack placed small tokens or delicate flowers on the soft pillows surrounding Stiles' body as they looked at him laying in his coffin. Derek laid a single white rose in between Stiles' clasped hands. He wished he could have done something else, though; the many unfamiliar faces staring kept his feet planted in their spot. 

\---

After the Stiles' death, Derek and the Sheriff had an odd relationship, but it seemed to be enough for them. The Sheriff offered Derek a job at the police station a couple weeks after the funeral. Derek accepted and began training at the nearest academy. Derek excelled through his training and graduated to the Beacon Hills Police Department, before quickly gaining rank until he worked directly for the Sheriff. Years later, when Sheriff Stilinski retired, Derek took his place. 

\---

The pack of teenagers grew into a pack of adults who settled down and learned to let go, but still never forgot. Derek's pack had also grown; marriages resulted in children, omegas who lost or needed a pack pledged themselves to Derek, and he even gave a few the bite over the years, but only after they had seen what they were going to be a part of. Most pesky supernatural creatures and hunters stayed away from the Hale territory. The stories of their triumph over the alpha pack spread across the country and the Chris and Allison Argent protected and stood up for the pack against the hunters. 

And even though the original pack all found something that would somewhat fill the empty holes and tried to heal the best they could, the anniversary of their loved one's deaths allowed the pain to worm its way in again.

\---

It took Derek a while to fully accept that there was nothing he could have done to save Stiles. He understands now that Stiles is gone and he’s never coming back.

For there’s always a price for winning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> I want to know what you guys thought of it, so comments or reviews would be really nice.


End file.
